Page 261 of Sinister

The only way Sin is safe is if this man dies.

I shoot.

The force of it knocks me back. The bullet enters Snowden’s skull and shatters it from within—brain matter, bone fragments, blood—all scattered in the grass. Arnoult stares at me in shock from the sidelines.

I throw the gun aside and turn to find Sin.

A loud, unnatural scream splits the air.

The creature stumbles backward. Her entire body goes slack—frozen in place. Only her mouth remains open, her voice shrieking like a siren, like an alarm echoing in the still night.

She screams and screams until her skin starts to melt off her bones.

Her bones are next, shattering under my very gaze . . . until there’s nothing left but ash. Even that is eventually swept away in the wind.

I blink. Adrenaline still floods my veins. I can’t fully process what I’ve just seen—or what I’ve done.

All I know is that I need Sin to be okay.

I run to him.

He’s injured—his chest torn with claw marks, blood seeping from his wounds.

“Sin,” I whisper, “please tell me you’re okay. Please.”

“Petra . . . you . . . you killed him,” he murmurs.

“I did,” I whisper, nodding. Then I frown. “Did I?”

He pulls me into his arms as I glance back at Snowden’s ruined skull.

Arnoult slowly rises to his feet and stumbles toward where Leah’s body lies. He’s wounded, too, but I know the pain in his heart is far deeper than anything physical. He doesn’t look at us. He just pulls her into his arms and mourns in silence.

I stand frozen, still staring at the bloody mess on the grass. “Snowden . . . I did that,” I say again, stunned.

“Are you all right?” Sin asks softly.

I look at him, unable to answer. I don’t know what to feel, if I should feel anything.

“I will be,” I eventually say.

He kisses the top of my head, and I note the strain in his features. He’s in pain, and he’s asking me if I’m all right.

“We need to tend to your injuries.”

“Not now.” He shakes his head. “First, we must take care of the bodies.”

“What?”

“We can’t leave them here to be found by constables.”

With slow, tentative steps, he walks toward Arnoult.

“Sinclair . . .”

“Don’t ask me that. Don’t ask me to leave her.”

“You must.”